He is
another man. Or if the will is not strong enough actually to kill a
soul"--at this point Valentine spoke more slowly, and there was a certain
note of uneasiness, even almost of agitation, in his voice--"it can yet
expel it from the body in which it resides, and drive it, like a new
Ishmael, into the desert, where it must hover, useless, hopeless,
degraded, and naked, because it has no body to work in. Yes! yes! that
must be so! The soul can have no power divorced from the body! none!
none!"
He got up from his chair, and began to pace the little room. Cuckoo
watched him as a child might watch a wild animal in its cage. His face
was hard and thin with deep thought, and hers was contorted under her
yellow hair--contorted in a frantic effort to grasp and to understand
what he was saying; for, stupid, ignorant as the lady of the feathers
was, she had a sharp demon in her that often told her the truth, and
this demon whispered now in her ear:
"Listen, and you may learn things that you long to know!"
And she listened motionless, her eyes bright and eager, her lips shut
together, her slim body a-quiver with intensity, mental and physical.
"How can it?" Valentine went on. "What is a soul without a body? You
cannot see it.
Pages:
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425